


promised tomorrow

by Anonymous



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alpha Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Colorblind GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Domestic Fluff, Gen, GeorgeNotFound Has Heterochromia Iridum (Video Blogging RPF), I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied Mpreg, Light Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Omega GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Omega Verse, Parent-Child Relationship, and so does baby dreamnotfound, but it's mainly fluffy family stuff, can you tell, only rated teen up bc of that i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28805208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: During a brief respite in conflict and wars, a few people get the much needed rest they deserve.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 216
Collections: Anonymous





	promised tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> hello there! this takes place in an omegaverse dsmp setting shortly after the first war for l'manberg's freedom, and age wise i've put george at 24, dream at 22, and their cough accidental cough kid at 3. 
> 
> i want to clarify that the characters i write about are the characters they play in the smp. it's up to you whether you ship them in real life or not, but please don't send hate to anyone either way as the two people involved have already stated they have no issue with it. but i won't keep you in the notes any longer, so enjoy!

The line between dream and nightmare was treading increasingly thin.

His previously peaceful sleep had begun to toss him about, dunking him under frigid, intimidating water and then bringing him back up to breathe cherished air. When he could breathe, he dreamt of light blue skies and fields full of flowers, an endless expanse of colours he could never truly see but loved all the same. There were others with him, too. Old friends who teased him like siblings. A warm presence at his side that promised safety and love. A small hand that gripped his like it would never let go. 

But then the scents of comfort, warm and happy and sweet like milk, curdled and soured until it hurt to take a breath. The sky turned dark in a red he couldn’t understand, colourful flowers disappearing in favour of trampled, muddy ground, shoulders heavy, hands and clothes stained a brown he knew would never come off. The presence at his side had vanished like it was never there. The line where his shoulder met his neck ached and stung like he’d been pricked by a million needles. Somehow, he knew that if he checked the skin would be unblemished. Too bare. 

Unmarked. 

The pounding in his head mimicked the thunder of a raging storm, the storm that gave him whiplash as he flip flopped between peace and torture. The pulsing pain in his neck rendered his limbs useless as he collapsed on the indecisive ground. But he couldn’t afford to surrender. Despite the unkind scents of suffering and fear clogging his nose, the distinct lack of one making him tremble, he groped mindlessly at the ground in front of him. 

Something was missing. Someone was missing, and it was driving him mad. It didn’t matter how faint or repulsive the scent might’ve turned, it _had_ to be there. The weight that made his arms sore from carrying, the wailing that woke him up at ungodly hours of the night, the arms that clung to him like he was a lifeline, it had to be there, it couldn’t be gone, he had to be okay, _he had to be alive-_

And then his hand met something soft, and he woke up. 

An instinct inside him resisted the urge to spasm, so he settled on a sharp gasp instead. Panting, he fought the need to breathe through his nose. He was terrified of smelling that cocktail of misery again. 

For a brief moment, the panic resurfaced when the light stayed dark and the sky blue was still hidden away. A few more skittish glances confirmed that it was just late and the night was actually littered with stars. This was real. Twilight had shrouded the air with a simple stillness and not dread. 

Even knowing this, his breaths came heavy. He hadn’t opened his nostrils yet and had no plans to, but if he kept this up he might pass out and return to that abomination of sleep.

Thankfully, in this reality, there was someone else to remind him. 

“George.”

With a flick of his neck that he would probably regret in the morning, he met a gaze that shone gold with the warmth of a hearth. 

_Dream,_ he tried to say, but his dry throat choked on the name.

“Shh, you’re okay, you’re okay,” Dream’s arm reached over the gap between the two to ghost over the mark on his neck. Instantly, George shuddered from the touch and the tension from his body left in a desperate exhale. “Breathe with me, okay? In, out. In… out.”

The first deep breath that entered his lungs was like an anvil being lifted off his chest. He was flooded with the calming scent Dream was emitting, sharp pines blending seamlessly with fresh water and wild berries. It was the same scent that surrounded him in the flower field and the next breath was 10 times lighter. The other, fainter smell of sweetened milk and cut fruit finally allowed him to rest his eyes. 

Neither of them said anything for a while. As George’s breaths evened out, Dream seemed to breathe a little easier too. He recognized that his scent had probably left a bitter taste in his mouth, enough for Dream to wake up, and made a conscious effort to return it to normal. 

He was surprised the little one in between them had barely shifted throughout the whole endeavour. With a questioning eyebrow in Dream’s direction, his mate smiled softly. “I kept him up a little later after you went to bed. He’s probably knocked out.”

“Ah,” George whispered. Still a bit high strung, he lifted himself onto his elbow and rested his head on his hand. His other hand was the one who had found solace in his son’s fluffy hair. With a tired smile, Dream watched his hand rake gently through the brown locks. His touch stayed feather light. Dream was quiet for another moment, knowing that George needed proof of physical contact and nothing else. 

After a minute or two George turned his head to place a light kiss on Dream’s wrist, the latter’s fingertips still grazing the mark on his neck. “Thank you for waking me up,” he murmured, mismatched eyes drowsy. He didn’t apologize for disturbing Dream’s sleep. They both knew he had no need to. 

“I’m always here,” Dream whispered in response. His hand dropped from his neck and moved down to lay beside their child. His thumb brushed away the boy’s hair from his eye, a soothing touch that caused him to shift the slightest bit. The older two quickly quieted their breathing, George’s hand never pausing in his calming motions, but the boy lifted his head from the mattress anyway. 

A green eye blinked open first, squinting at his parents. “W-” he started, but his own yawn interrupted his words. George quickly shushed him, putting his hands under his arms and lifting until the small face was level with Dream’s and his own, if slightly lower so he could still meet Dream’s gaze. 

“Nothing, nothing, go back to sleep,” George hushed. The boy turned his head with a struggle, strength failing his tired body, just enough to see his dad smiling behind him. Clearly amused, Dream tapped a finger to his own lips. His hand then reached over to delicately close his son’s heterochromatic eyes. With a huff, he grabbed his dad’s hand and pushed it away, unaware how the action of his tiny hand gripping Dream’s larger one had his heart bursting. 

“Hot,” he grumbled, turning and burying himself into George’s chest. George couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in his throat at the mock offended look on his mate’s face. Dream frowned, despite knowing how normally an Alpha’s blood ran hotter than an Omega’s, so George’s cool skin was something their son probably appreciated more right now. 

_Stop pouting,_ George mouthed, lifting his head slightly so he could point at Dream’s hand. Despite turning his back to him, the little boy kept his hand wrapped around a few of Dream’s fingers and had brought it close to his chest, so that the back of his hand brushed against George’s stomach.

It was crazy how their son could claim their hearts with the simplest of movements. 

_I’m gonna cry,_ Dream worded silently, so straight-faced George couldn’t take him seriously. With a soft kiss to a small brunette head, George wriggled a bit until he got comfortable again.

“Do you wanna…?” Dream asked softly. George knew what he meant, to discuss whatever nightmare had kept him awake tonight, but he shook his head and gestured to the boy against his chest. 

Dream hummed in understanding. Ignoring his son’s previous complaints of too much warmth, he shuffled closer until he could comfortably lay his unoccupied arm straight, running his hand over the top of George’s head. “Tomorrow,” George sighed, eyes closing from the comforting touch. 

“Tomorrow,” Dream agreed. Per the norm, Dream’s body refused to let him rest until his mate and child were far into the realms of sleep. When he was younger, this was an instinct he thought he would despise the most. He would childishly complain about the lack of sleep he would get, oblivious to the amused head shakes of the mated Alphas around him. 

Now, in their position, it’s perhaps one of his favourite parts of having a family. The privilege of seeing them trust him completely, enough to be at their most vulnerable around him, filled him with a pride and devotion he could barely comprehend. It also left him time alone with his thoughts. A quiet moment to reflect on every memory he’d made with them that day. 

Perhaps this last one wasn’t for the books. He didn’t need to remember every time he or George woke up in a panic, traumatising memories from a past of violence and war resurfacing to disturb their peaceful life. But if they did need to talk about it, if George needed more reassurance that they were okay, that their little family was _safe_ \- George could always tell him tomorrow. Because nowadays, there was nothing threatening that. They’d always have one of those.

A tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> it felt nice to focus on the more fluffy part of omegaverse than the down and dirty - not that there's anything wrong with some spice ;)
> 
> please leave kudos and comments if you want more short stories in this universe! i can't promise anything soon but i definitely have some thoughts floating around in my head. hope you liked it :)


End file.
